#I just wrote paragraph after paragraph

[kikis-dump]

My thoughts on the Trials of Apollo series from book 1 to a bit into book 3. So there are spoilers from up to that point. I want to freely rant about this epic series okay o<-<

In book 1 I was fucking crying and laughing my way through that damn book and don’t regret it at all. One moment Apollo is being such a silly little ex-god and the next moment he’s being all sad and remembering his past lovers which mad ME sad. PLS APOLLO I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH. It was the most confusing experience which makes my head hurt but it was entertaining and gave me good angst and plot and I loved it all the same. I genuinely didn’t know what to think of the alternating angst and humor. Then just when I was reading the epic rescue of Apollo and then I had to quickly recover from idk- HIM SINGING OF HIS FAULTS FROM HYACINTHUS AND DAPHNE I’M SORRY WTF APOLLO???? and then after that was Meg’s betrayal and then it just…CLICKED ??? Her apologizing sm after Apollo sang the song at the ant cave thing….I actually did almost cry from her betrayal cause it really did hurt that much- and then APOLLO GETS HIS GOD STRENGTH FOR A FEW MOMENTS TO SAVE HIS CHILDREN. IF HE ISN’T GODLY DAD OF THE YEAR FOR THAT I’M THROWING A FIT

His whole mindset of God to mortal was so clear and even if that Godly charisma of his stayed it made Apollo…well Apollo. It was his personality with a hint of mortality! Best character development I have ever seen AND IT JUST CONTINUES IN THE NEXT BOOK???

Anyway so then the thing with going to Indianapolis and oh god it just displayed some of the best parts of Apollo’s new mindset and him caring for Meg but then his past with Commodus or wtv his name was, was like the highlight of him before and now. Even though most of the people didn’t see that Apollo changed even a bit, it truly displayed his regret, his actions, his faults and what it meant to be a God for him, to the reader. I don’t have many things to say cause I need the info to settle in my mind because that book was me literally anticipating Apollo’s mortality and I wasn’t disappointed at all. And also I was starting my internal panic cause the plot finally picked up and I was really scared in the cave seen and ya- 😭😭😭

So then in Book 3 rn i’m in between the scene where Medea shows up and tells Apollo and the rest about the Helios thing and ya around that part and now I’m excited to see Meg’s backstory more- not excited for Jason’s death…maybe death? But still I’m scared- I’m still taking a break so I could process everything cause Ngl I read these 3 books straight in like 2-3 days I swear I read the book well but I want to go back to some scenes and internally cry over them.

Also unrelated but 3 years ago while I was still reading Mark of Athena, Jason’s death was spoiled to me and now when I finally decide to read the Trials of Apollo I can’t help but get really sad and scared for his death cause I recently got reattached to him as a character because of BoO (as late as that character development was, I still love it). I only know he dies somewhere in the 3rd or 4th and it’s scaring THE SHIT OUT OF ME. LIKE CMON PLS

But at the same time I want to genuinely cry at his death but I’m afraid that spoiling myself already removed that possibility and it makes me sadder :((

Okay rant done, hopefully my mind will finally be at peace to be able to think properly for the next few days 🥰

[lights-at-night]

every time i think about how faulkner started well intentioned in leading the faith i throw up

[kingslionheart]

Just so some king in this world may have driven one of his favourites from him, or he may have been forced from the king against both of their wills; then hath he many torments and many mishaps in his exile, yet he may come to the same lord whom he before was with, and there be much more worshipful than he was. Then he will recall the misfortunes which he had there in his exile, and yet not be the more unhappy — Alfred the Great's translation of St. Augustine's Soliloquies

[okkalo]

morning workout

sae x reader

genre(s): fluff

warnings: none

I WANNA WRITE FOR RIN SO BAD BUT I ALREADY HAVE SO MUCH RIN SO IM TRYING TO EVEN IT OUT AND IT SUCKS BC RIN WOULD BE SO CUTE IN THIS SCENARIO

“sae…i think i’m actually about to die,” you claimed in between your tired pants, hands resting on your waist. sae could only roll his eyes at your statement, which wasn’t even close to the first one this morning.

“you’re the one who wanted to join my morning workout,” he mentioned while watching your exhausted form. “besides, you’re on your last set anyways.”

when you begged sae to let you accompany him to the gym this morning you were expecting nice couple time. maybe even a time to watch him sweat and show his muscles. besides, you’ve heard how working out can make you feel better. so, of course you persisted on joining sae this morning.

big mistake. it was sae’s leg day and he gave you the same workouts as his, of course with less weights. that didn’t make it any easier.

so here you were, on the last set of your weighted squats feeling the immense aching of your legs. “my legs won’t do another one, sae.” you finally got over your heavy breathes, meeting his eyes.

“this is the last workout of today, you can do it. and if you really can’t then i’m right behind you. i won’t let you get hurt,” he tried to compromise, knowing how much you looked forward to this morning. it made you feel warm—well, warmer than you were—seeing him actually care enough to try to push you a little.

“you’ve already hurt me with this workout, babe,” you sighed, letting your hands fall to your sides as you looked towards the bar. he walked up, stopping in front of you and letting his hand meet your cheek while he occupied your other cheek with a kiss. he gave you a small push to make you look at him.

“ten more, you’re so close,” was all he could say, struggling to come up with more inspiration to give you. really, him saying anything at all was a lot coming from him though. knowing this you gave him a hesitant nod, walking out of his hold to the squat rack—you’re new worst enemy.

“don’t let me die here, please,” you added, dipping your head to the other side of the bar, adjusting your hands as you saw fit. you took a minute to breathe and ready yourself, sae giving you a small squeeze on your hip as you did so.

“i’m right here,” was all you needed to hear before you took your last breathe and lifted the bar. it was a painfully long last set, your legs shaking each time you pushed yourself up. sae noticed, hands carefully hovering around your figure as he mumbled the count. he immediately took the bar once you finished, taking the weight off of you.

“good job,” he gave a muttered praise, hand meeting your back as you went back into your earlier position. he leaned forward to give you another kiss on your flushed cheek before retreating to take the weights off the bar.

“sae, never let me join you again,” you struggled to say in between your breathes, watching as he put the equipment away. “i’m so glad i’m done.”

“we still have to do our cooldown stretches,” he reminded you, prompting a long and loud whine to escape your lips.

unedited thanks for reading!

[ramen8008]

Eurylochus: you miss your wife so bad you'd trade the lives of your own crew

Odysseus: Brother, you killed 500 of our men cause curiosity got the best of you

[eyesontheskyline]

Has anyone else been in the Criminal Minds fandom for like... more than a few years? Like, long enough to remember when the fandom was mostly made of people who watched at least most of the show before they started seeing fandom content? I'm curious whether the culture shifts in the fandom feel to anyone else like. . . the result of a large chunk of the fandom having certain expectations of characters or relationships or dynamics before even meeting them, based on seeing tiktok edits and tumblr discourse?

[ourfag]

i think part of the resistance i’ve seen in response to the view of ed as an abuse victim—not just the view of izzy as someone who abused ed, but of ed as someone who was abused by him, as opposed to interpretations that pursue an image of Nuance and Complexity (unnecessarily, because their dynamic has heaps of both, but there seems to be a popular impulse to conflate complexity with shared culpability) by characterizing their relationship as being toxic/unhealthy in equal reciprocity, or as “mutually abusive” (oxymoron)—i definitely see the influence of racism there, but i think the racism is also working to amplify an adjacent issue where we tend to receive very specific cultural messaging about What An Abuse Victim Looks Like, and ed is excluded from a lot of that criteria.

he’s outspoken. he’s boisterous. he’s Very Cool and he Wears Leather. he’s physically bigger and browner than the person mistreating him. he spends the first season with a big grey beard, he’s covered in tattoos, he projects the image of A Man’s Man, to say nothing of his being a man in the first place. we see him get aggressive and we see him get angry (and sometimes we even see both at the same time). we see moments where he’s surly, prickly, insensitive, arrogant. his survival techniques and trauma responses incur collateral damage to other people, and in the second season this extends into affecting people we actually sympathize with. he’s extremely private about expressing fear. without examination, his professional relationship to izzy seems to position him as the one with the power slanted in his favor.

most damningly, we see him react multiple times to izzy’s abuse with physical violence. this is behavior that gets referenced all the time in the construction of narratives condemning subjects of physical abuse, let alone emotional abuse. which is why writing that intends for its audience to interpret a character as being unambiguously A Victim Of Abuse will often, for simplicity’s sake, avoid showing the character regularly engaging in anything of the kind.

and again, all of these departures from the image of The Model Victim are compounded by his being a man of color.

without any of the shorthand designed to point a big flashing arrow at his mistreatment, all we have left to work with are the words and actions we see from ed and izzy onscreen. who instigates conflict, and how does the other respond? how are they able or allowed to respond? how do we see them speak about each other to outside parties? does one go out of their way to control or isolate the other? what consequences does either party stand to face in saying “no” to the other? in acting against the other’s wishes? in trying to leave the relationship? when either of them attempts these things, how do we see the other respond?

i realize and appreciate what people are driving at when they garnish their analysis with disclaimers that they’re not saying ed’s just a poor innocent abuse victim, they’re not saying he’s a perfect angel who’s never done anything wrong, and that’s true, but these are points already contained implicitly in statements like “this show’s protagonists act like human people” and “ed’s emotional struggles are portrayed in a realistic and believable way.” my assumption is that these disclaimers are anticipatory responses to worst-faith interpretations of any discussion that attributes any victim status to ed whatsoever, so i definitely sympathize with their inclusion, but a (very small) part of me still worries about them potentially reflecting or reinforcing a belief that there is any way for someone to behave towards their abuser that imparts a responsibility for them to make right whatever damage the abuser receives, or for that matter any degree of ambiguity over their status as an abuse victim in the first place.

part of what i find so gratifying about ed as a character is that i don’t feel like the show’s writing is pressuring me to consider that ambiguity at all. which was a really nice thing for me to discover!

and tbh—did using ed to deconstruct The Model Victim even factor into the writers’ agenda?? ive got no clue. im guessing no? ??maybe?? probably not?? but if you create a main character whose central premise is that he feels trapped in a performance of exaggerated masculinity that he’s desperate to escape, and then you set him up with a character premised on embodying a tangible obstacle against that escape, then i guess that’s the natural shape your story’s gonna be inclined to take

[exile-arc]

ok so its official i did not write anything at all in 2024😐😐

[lucindasthighs]

hmmgh thinking about laurance but his shadow knight powers connect him to the environment. And he HATES it.

He wants to pretend that he's not changed, that he can go back to a normal life- But he can hear the tremble of the earth as the memories of old gods vibrate through it; he can sense the withering of plants, the decay of corpses in his vicinity.

The feeling he hates the most is the burning, vicious hatred in the back of his consciousness. It's not his - it's old and faded, like the imprints of letters in a worn book. Sometimes, he can't even tell it's there. But he's quickly reminded when he gazes at Irene Aphmau, and it flares with intensity, like an old wound that never healed.

It's not his...right?

[itwoodbeprefect]

Fic Writing Review 2024 🌈

i did this last year and tagged a bunch of people, and this year i'm going to continue the tradition but not tag anyone, i think, because i'm very late. but if you're reading this and you've posted anything to ao3 in 2024, consider yourself tagged, and please tag me if you still do it! i'd love to see other people's lists!

for me this was, uh. probably my least productive year since i really truly made the switch to english fic (2018), and it's definitely no 2019, when i posted 56 fics. but not every year can be a 2019 (or should be one, frankly), so that's okay.

-

Words and Fics (on ao3) 📚

words posted: 18,404

fics posted: 12! of which 2 were technically late crossposts from starsky & hutch fandom events in 2023 (though i also wrote a 2024 s&h advent calendar fic that is yet to make it to ao3, so if we really do the math we maybe get to 11 finished works. but i'll stick with those 12 posted within the timeframe for the rest of this, for convenience's sake, and because 1 fic per month makes a nice round average.)

first fic: With every guitar string scar on my hand, a bad buddy pat/pran fic, on jan 24th

last fic: By Heart (or: Memorization hacks for the smitten idol), a thame-po heart that skips a beat fic (which is, well. thame/po), on dec 28th

-

Ships and Fandoms ⚓

according to ao3:

Starsky & Hutch (5)

��ค่เพื่อนครับเพื่อน | Bad Buddy: the Series (TV) (3)

Hawaii Five-0 (2010) (2)

เธม-โป้ Heart That Skips a Beat | Thame-Po: Heart That Skips a Beat (TV) (1)

บ้านหลอน ON SALE | Peaceful Property (TV) (1)

the most shocking thing here by far is that there are only two (2) h50 fics on this list. it doesn't even feel that way! i still spent a really good chunk of time thinking about h50 fic, it just didn't amount to much in terms of actual finished products. starsky and hutch is still going strong (relatively speaking, at least), and last year i noted that i wished i'd gotten any of my bad buddy projects posted, which clearly sort of worked out for me this year, though there's still More. the other two are two thai series that took me by surprise, which, hey, fingers crossed that will keep happening, because i really need to start writing some fic again about things i'm actually currently watching. it's good for the soul i think.

-

Top 5 Fics by Kudos 🏆

Ain’t no other that can sweep you up like a robber [h50]

Meet me at the edge (I’ve already fallen) [h50]

Sun down and I’m feeling lifted (Downtown, cherry lipstick) [bad buddy]

With every guitar string scar on my hand [bad buddy]

By Heart (or: Memorization hacks for the smitten idol) [thamepo]

h50 is easily outpacing everything else, with both of those way at the top here. what i like is that the ink/pa bad buddy fic extremely comfortably landed the third spot, with almost double the kudos of the pat/pran fic that's in fourth place. the world craves femslash i guess! along with a host of other, more likely factors (it probably has a more catchy description, it's tagged for both ships because patpran still show up, possibly more people in 2024 were looking for fic for characters played by milk and love because they're still actively working together, etc), but wouldn't it be nice.

the thamepo fic (which is thame/po. it never stops feeling a little goofy to explain the ship when it's in the title, but you could of course be writing other things anyway) taking the fifth most kudo'd spot came as a bit of a shock, but honestly, i've written for so many Smaller Fandoms in 2024 that it's not actually very odd. it's my most recent posted thing but this show is currently airing and seems to be getting a decent amount of traction, so it has the benefit of being current.

my kudos total for all 12 fics i posted this year is as of writing this at 1,235, and there's a stark contrast in this being about ~700 kudos below 2023's How to build a triangle (ted lasso, jamie/roy/keeley) all by itself. i did NOT hop into any ted-lasso-at-its-peak sized fandoms in 2024.

-

Top 5 Favorite Fics 💖

well! the upside of writing 12 fics is that i can put, like, over two-fifths of them on this list. in no particular order:

By Heart (or: Memorization hacks for the smitten idol) - i mean, i think today's episode of, uh, Thame-Po: Heart That Skips A Beat may have pushed this fic a little farther from following canon than it originally seemed (apparently thame was not aware of his own lurking romantic feelings for po, at all. oh my god) but i had a fun time writing this! it's short and not very specific and i enjoy the repeated number thing. (this kid was really rushing across the city to ask to memorize the number of a guy he apparently assumed he was just trying to be friends with. i do love him very dearly already, gosh.)

The name of the game - this is starsky/hutch and i think it's sort of sneaking in here! i was just happy this was a Complete Fic when i posted it (it had all the necessary parts, so i was sending it off), but then people were SO sweet about it in SUCH overwhelming numbers that it's probably a huge part of how i fell back in love with it myself. that's always a little magical to me. also: the sisyphus line about starsky may be my favorite thing i posted in 2024.

Rest your heart easy - also starsky/hutch! but less of a surprise. this was written for the ShareCon 2023 zine, and i don't reread it very often, but when i do it's like, yeah! i'm glad it was this fic of mine that got to participate in the zine. it's nice, it's warm, it flows.

Sun down and I’m feeling lifted (Downtown, cherry lipstick) - the bad buddy ink/pa fic! this sounds so silly when saying it about a thing that took over my life for a few months and still makes me drop to the floor when i see one (1) scene for whatever reason and am immediately attacked by the memory of how much i love it, but i'm REALLY still figuring out how to write these characters. they are my best friends and i have no idea who they are, apparently. but i like the attempt i made here, and i think i might like it more than both of the finished pat/pran focused fics, though that could be purely because i reread those far too many times in trying to Get It Right before hitting post. also. i like ink and pa! and they deserved to kiss. (and on that note, it's 2025, why is there still such a strict dividing line between GL and BL in nearly all cases? let the girls and boys hang out together, please. i won't pretend that if bad buddy could do it then everyone can (those are entirely unrealistic standards in most cases), but they could at least try.)

Home goes where the heart is - this is a peaceful property fic that is only vaguely peach/home shippy. (peaceful property being, on all levels that count, not BL.) in hindsight, i think i should have gone with one of my alternate title options and called it Pang pang! It’s a Home invasion! (because one of the characters is called pangpang and another one is called home), but hey, this slightly more serious title is fun too. i'm not even sure this is necessarily one of the best things i wrote in 2024, but it just makes me happy. there's a second peaceful property fic of which i wrote most on the night that the finale aired, but then it got longer than intended and it ended up stuck in limbo. but i still have hopes that i may give it an ending one day, because these characters in their weird kind loud ghost & cooking show that made me cry several times really deserve it (and i think there are some funny lines in the wip, and if there's one thing that makes me want to see a fic finished, it's a joke that the world should be able to read).

-

Fandom Fic Events 🤝

it's not on ao3 yet (i may do that soon-ish), but my fic for this year’s Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar, The Simple Things! if starsky and hutch is your jam, don't forget to look at the rest of the calendar too!

-

Projects for 2025 👀

hmm, well. hmm.

2024 was an incredibly chaotic year for me, writing-wise. i'm not entirely sure what i was doing or where i was going, and i wasn't extremely motivatived to figure it out, because i was doing other things. (like figuring out how to write thai letters, for example.) i think if i want to write more, then part of my 2025 has to be to read more fiction, because it's truly just, like. words need to go in for words to come out.

i REALLY want to get a flip-flop state of mind finished up for real this year. i want to get better at/allow myself more slack to just type up something short and quick and probably not too deep, rather than feeling some need to turn every single wip idea into a months or years long project. those are great too! i love chipping away at a fic for an eternity, and the beauty of hobby writing is that there's no reason not to still do that, too! but i also need to keep things moving a little bit so i don't get stuck in a loop of looking at the same words which don't inspire me anymore and not adding anything, which also doesn't get me anything new to jump off from tomorrow.

so. write some h50 fic. write some starsky & hutch fic. write a bunch of thai series fic (and allow myself to play some jazz when it comes to character voices, because i still keep getting stuck on that too often. it's fine if they're My Version, that's what fic is). maybe something else, if i feel like it? my project for 2025 is Fun, and it would be really neat if i could get 13 fics (or more) posted (to get that yearly number moving back up again), but if not, that's also fine.

honestly maybe what i need in terms of fandoms is something in thai which is also queerbait (or queercoding), because that's where i'm at currently + what historically is best at getting me to write. i've heard a lot about high school frenemy, and i only keep dodging it because it has high school in the title, but hey, who knows! maybe watching two men who are 26 and 27 play high schoolers in some sort of feud who are obviously in love but don't kiss about it will fix me.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖⛵🐑 thank you <3

there’s not enough work for my my man wojchek out there.

In This Moment, We Could Crash Together - Wojchek/Reader

Warnings: Female reader, no use of Y/N, fluff.

Wordcount: 1540

Summary: He was only with you for a short while, but maybe you could keep him if he let himself keep you.

Notes: I was going to attempt sleep again but I cannot resist my jolly sailor bold 🥰 Wojchek was the first character I actually shipped with, back when I was slowly falling in love with DD and the few roles I'd seen, so I kinda waxed poetic with this one 🥰 thank you sosososo much for sending this one right before bed, I hope you enjoy 💗💗💗

You sometimes wondered what he was like when he was out at sea on the Demeter, when he was the captain of his own ship and everyone followed his every command. You could only guess as you watched him give orders from the windows of your dockside home or from the busy street down below, everyone bustling around like ants and keeping you from getting too close. You only truly knew what he was like in moments like this, when he made port for a day or two to rest and resupply, never back for longer than a week.

The two of you were currently on your bed, his long body draped between your skirt-trapped legs as he rested in your lap, your idle hands carding through his long hair as he slept.

He was always tired when he returned home, never showing it in the early days as he courted you with all the confidence of a man who knew the sea but not love, but now that you’d been together a few years he let you see this side of himself more often, not afraid to appear weak or vulnerable in front of you anymore. It made your heart soar every time he trusted you enough to close his eyes a moment, to relax on solid ground where it made him miss the ebb and flow of the waves, the unpredictability of the sea always bringing around the uncertainty of when he’d return to you next.

He didn’t have a home of his own other than the Demeter, and before he’d met you he used to sleep on board, not wanting to waste the money on a room when it could be used for better things, the promotion to captain giving him someplace more private for the first time in years. When you’d suggested he stay with you after a few months of meeting in the alleys along the docks he’d refused at first, for to spend one night would make this feel real, permanent, a temptation to stay. You promised him then that you’d never make him choose, you could never, knowing of his first love and how you could never compare to her, your eyes barely holding in your tears as he’d then lifted your hands to his lips and pressed soft kisses to your knuckles as he told you that the sea wasn’t his only love anymore.

He had no possessions to leave with you, nor any guarantees that he would return sooner than a month, if at all, most of the time, the two of you just needing to trust that he knew what he was doing and that his crew would help him finish the voyage. When he left and you were alone in your flat once more there were never any traces of him there to remind you of him, nothing but the memory of seeing him in all the places he no longer was. Over time it became painful to watch him walk out your door so you’d started standing on the docks just to be able to hold him for a few seconds longer, and each time you parted you felt like he was talking a part of you with him as you watched the Demeter sail away until it was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Neither of you spoke openly of love after that first time, but you knew deep in your heart that you were in love with him every time he returned back to you, arms open and waiting for you to rush back to him before time could tear you apart again.

He stirred but didn’t wake as you brushed the backs of your fingers tenderly over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble and wishing you could kiss him, but to attempt to do so would disturb him and that was the last thing you wanted. He usually dreamed so fitfully when he was on land but today he was calm, the two of you choosing this location since your old couch was too small for him to stretch out on even by himself, and as soon as you’d pulled him down to situate himself he’d almost instantly fallen asleep. It must’ve been a rough voyage for him to be this exhausted, chest rising and falling under his hands as they rested over his torso, the sight almost hypnotizingly rhythmic as you watched him.

Eventually you did have to wake him, though, your stomach grumbling against your will and rousing him from sleep before you could give him just a few more minutes. The sun had set a while ago now, the warm breeze carried from the water growing cold and making you shiver but he hadn’t noticed, used to it after so many years. He looked around before his eyes became adjusted to the dark, you weren’t able to light any candles with him laying on you after all, his head falling back against your stomach as he remembered where he was.

He mumbled something in his native language as he watched you, a small smile on your lips as you brushed your hair out of your eye in embarrassment. ‘I don’t understand,’ you admitted, his hand reaching up to caress you the same way you’d done to him.

‘I said, “you’re so beautiful,”’ he repeated in English, your cheeks flushing at the sudden sentimentality. It wouldn’t be proper to tell him how beautiful you thought he was in return, even though it was true, settling for handsome as you leaned forward until you could press a kiss to his forehead; you were stopped from sitting back up as his hand then found the back of your neck, keeping you close long enough to give you the kiss you’d been wanting, like he’d been able to hear your desires even in his sleep. ‘We make way for Barcelona tomorrow,’ he reminded you even more suddenly than his sentimentality, your faces still so close that you couldn’t even attempt to hide how you felt from him.

‘It’s so far…’ You hated the jobs that brought him away from you for more than a month, several weeks needed to get there, let alone return.

‘You promised to never make me choose,’ he reminded you, voice low but not upset, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you sat back against your pillows.

‘I won’t,’ you reassured him, but still he pushed himself up to sit and look at you.

‘It won’t be as long as last time,’ he said, already knowing down to the day how long it would take, the markings of a great captain. It filled you with pride to think about it but still you wished you could go with him just once, just so the wait wouldn’t have to feel like an eternity. You could never share that secret desire though, it would be too much to ask for from him, so you can only look away, stay silent. He shifted himself over your leg so he could crawl up to the pillows, now laying beside you as you were the one to be lowered against his chest, his arms, toned and tanned from many years of rising in the ranks until he was where he was now, wrapping around you and reminding you that he was still there, he wasn’t leaving just yet.

His hands were rough from a lifetime of labour but they still touched your cheek so softly it felt like an ocean breeze, his breathing calm as you gave in, got comfortable against him, your hunger forgotten as you mesh together effortlessly. You played with one of the holes in his shirt as he brushed your hair out of your face, mirroring you without realizing in a way that only a lover can, and when you try to hold his hand he brings it up to his lips, kisses each knuckle before hesitating on your bare ring finger.

Your hands found a place on his lap, his thumb running over the space and drawing your attention to it, the topic of the future just as elusive as the one of love in the days you were able to spend together, that silence finally broken as he laced his fingers together with yours. ‘When we leave tomorrow, do not follow me to say goodbye,’ he whispered, your heart aching as your body started to tremble. ‘Do not say goodbye, but come with me, let me introduce you to my second love.’

‘I thought I was your second,’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself, and he smiled with the shine of the sun in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards his own. ‘What about the crew?’

‘If they have a problem with you, I’ll throw them over myself,’ he promised, his expression making you feel like you could believe in him, in this. ‘Kocham cię,’ he then told you gently, your eyes closing even though you didn’t understand.

‘What does that mean?’ you asked, his lips just a breath out of reach before he closed the final gap, the translation still on his tongue as he kissed you.

‘I love you.’

[swlyf-24]

Adrenaline in velocity

Logan treated every race as if it were his last. He had put everything the car could give him and raced until the word was in flames. Maybe he was waiting for people to praise his improvement or for people to cheer for him. Who was he kidding? Logan was no one important.

It was clear his team despised him and had already expressed a desire for Carlos to succeed him.

'BREAKING: Carlos Sainz will join the team for ‘25, ‘26 and beyond 🤩​'

It was no surprise that Logan's dream would end. He had spent an entire childhood and teenage life just to chase something that had always been out of reach. If Logan gave up racing, he would be living the American life: partying out all night, eating whatever he wished, and everything he has ever wished for. If Logan had given up racing, would he be as miserable as he is now?

Seeing the words on the blinding screen only ate at Logan's heart. Oh, how it wished it could tear away from his ribcage and shatter the glass sky. A dream waits for him, yet he couldn't chase it.

"Trust yourself. You have survived a lot, and you will survive whatever is coming," they would always say. Logan knew better. He knew better than to trust words that brought him comfort and peace.

Every step in the paddock could be his last. This could be his last race, his last time putting on his helmet, his last time stepping into the car, his last time feeding off adrenaline, his last step into Williams. It could also be the last time Logan would ever feel the weight on his shoulders, crushing him.

"You tried your best, Logan. There's no shame in it." Really? Do they think that it really is Logan's best? Do they think that he can't do any better? Flames ate away at his heart—like a bonfire—burning away whatever he had left of Williams. It wasn't fair; it never was. What is Logan expected to do now? Trudge around mindlessly without a purpose of where to go or lead?

"You're one of the top 20 best drivers in the world, you have a reason to be here, to have a seat."

Maybe if Logan had more time, he could bring the junk of metal onto the podium—basking in the glory of sweet champagne as it went into his eyes. Logan would be too busy grinning to bother of the champagne stinging as it brought tears. He would party in bars, wasting away with alcohol just like he should be in his teenage years. Logan would wake up next week with a headache as his team and friends laughed at his antics. He would rock back and forth on his heels as he waited for the next race. Logan would play padel with Alex and Oscar and so many of his friends, his hair would be entirely coated with sweat. He would win a championship.

It was all just a dream—a dream that waited for none. If you were fast enough, perhaps you would be able to chase the dream that was out of reach. A Williams? Never in a million years would it be fast enough to give Logan a taste of glory—a taste of the world hearing his national anthem as he stood with hands behind his back, baring his teeth towards the sky, American flag wrapped around his shoulders like an embrace.

Logan wished he could scream at the top of his lungs how no one knew him truly. Or how he was the American who won a WDC, the American who won his first race in F1.

"I'll try, and make my way to Formula 1." a child with a mind full of dreams had uttered such words. Logan had done so well in Formula 2, what changed?

Logan could only hope that the taste of adrenaline would suffice for the races that still wanted him. That the champagne won't taste any sweeter nor would the trophies and medals shine any brighter for anyone.

[writingboutbrainrot]

All of Me Loaves All of You [ch2]

[ch0 | NOW ON A03]

Today was the big day. Louise was woken up way too early for her taste, 6 a.m., to go to the wedding venue. To save on costs the whole thing was very DIY - aside from renting a ballroom and hiring a caterer, no way was Bob Belcher catering at his own daughter’s reception and missing out on the important stuff. Besides, he still hated catering. 

So Louise had to be up at the buttcrack of dawn to go and help make sure everything was perfect. Which of course she was the perfect person for the overseeing of...just not for another few hours. Or at least 5 or so shots of espresso. Which she halfway downed on the drive with her parents and Gene.

Zeke’s cousin Leslie was already unfolding chairs outside when the Belchers arrived, a gaggle of children running around and not really helping. Who was helping though was a very tired looking blonde. Louise grimaced as Logan spun around, swinging a chair like Leatherface as he tried to not hit any of the children dashing about. He was very off balance and Louise sipped her caffeine and hoped she’d see him fall. Maybe he’d twist his ankle and someone else would have to stand it as best man. Leslie would be a suitable choice, he could even dance.

No such luck. Brown eyes squinted as the man righted himself and managed to set the chair down without incident. They then looked down at her just as dark coffee as the blonde started walking over with one of those smarmy little smirks of his.

“You gonna help with the labor or just stare at the workers?” he chided, arms crossed and that left brow of his raised so high Louise thought it may get lost in his bangs. Not bangs she could hide under like an umbrella if it rained, but a jungle that her fingers would probably get ensnared in if she- 

She blinked. Then she scoffed. “Unlike yooou, I have the all important job of making sure the bride doesn’t lose her shit. This means that I don’t have to do manual labor, thank you very much.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed a little, but then he motioned to the building. “Bride-not-zilla is in there with Susmita already.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but Louise spoke first,

“Great well you keep doing a mediocre job out here and I’m gonna go crush it in the dressing room.” 

She pushed past him, a little bit of coffee splashing his shirt and giving a “ha!” when he called out her name in an accusing whine. 

Dodging way too rambunctious children, Louise crossed the lawn and the ballroom. Then she cracked the door open for a decency check before sliding in. Linda had beelined when they arrived and was flitting about while Susmita handed a robed Tina a thermos.

“Bit early for vodka ain’t it?” Louise cracked. Her sister gave a sleepy glare. She shrugged and muttered, “Tough crowd,” and went to the pile of bags. She and her mom had put their stuff in the same bag and now was the time for Louise to dig around. They had a couple of hours before they were needed for the photoshoots, but Louise knew if she wanted to avoid manual labor she should get ready asap.

“Louise don’t you wanna lounge for a bit in the fancy robes?” Linda asked, waving a fluffy pink robe around. The question stopped Louise in her tracks. She stared at the cloth in question as it beckoned like a siren. If she put that on then not only would she not be forced out of the room, but she also wouldn’t have to use any effort to make herself up much earlier than she needed.

“Yes Mother, I would like to lounge in the fancy robes, thank you.” Louise agreed while putting down the bag. She took the robe from her mom and slid it over her pj’s. The microfiber fleece lulled her into a sense of security. How can Tina be grumpy in this?! she wondered for a moment. But then she remembered how little sleep everyone had gotten.

“Alright so. What’s the game plan Sus?” She decided it was going to be much better directing all inquiries to the bride’s maid who had it all together.

-x-x-x-

An hour of sitting around later and Louise found herself growing….bored. She was currently hanging upside down on the settee, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Her coffee was gone and replaced with a mimosa flute. Which she was nursing because she felt like 8 am was too early for alcohol but Linda was still always ready to get a party started.

“Besides, Louise, a mimosa is a morning drink. It’s perfectly acceptable,” the older woman insisted while lifting her own flute up.

“It’s a brunch drink, Mom,” she countered with a smile. “Brunch starts at 11, 10 if you’re being generous.”

“9 am if you’re in the Philippines,” Susmita chimed in without looking away from her tablet. Louise heard a Level Up come from the device and caught Susmita grin.

Linda let out a tchk. “Ahhhh you girls and your cement-ticks.”

“Semantics, Mom,” Tina joined in. Her tea was finally kicking in, she still wasn’t allowed to have coffee after that whole espresso episode she had as a teen.

“What did I say?”

“Nevermind, Mrs. Belcher. Hey, do you know when Gretchen will be here?” Susmita asked, expertly redirecting the subject. Louise admired that. It was nice to have someone else who could handle the family.

And like magic, the door opened to reveal….Tammy and Jocelyn. Louise groaned the smallest amount. The two may have grown up over the years, and sure Louise and Tammy have had their fair share of “same wavelength” moments but... 

“Tinaaa, girl we’re heereee!” Tammy exclaimed with way too much energy for 8 in the morning. She made a type of shrill sound that Louise wasn’t sure she could describe. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today!”

“Yeaah you’re, like, making it so official today,” Jocelyn added in the same lilted monotone she’s always had. Her head turned to the minibar next. “Ooo is that orange juice?”

Some things don’t change and it was just too early. So Louise took this as her cue to stop hiding inside and flipped herself off the settee. “Whelp looks like you’ve got enough people to hold down the fort in here T, I’m gonna make sure everything’s going smooth on the battlefield,” she announced while straightening out her robe.

Before Tina could protest, Louise gave her older sister a quick kiss to the top of her head which was graciously washed this morning, and headed out the door with her mimosa in hand.

She didn’t immediately regret it, even if she had to quickly dodge a gaggle of scamps rushing by. But she did so without spilling mimosa, so that was a win. Smirking to herself, she noticed Gene shuffling by.

“Yo Gene, where’s the fire?” she called, already heading toward them. 

The middle Belcher looked around without stopping. “Oh Louise!” They gave an appraising up and down glance before pointing. “I do hope that I have a robe waiting for me in either dressing room.” When Louise just raised her eyebrow, they shrugged and turned back to watch where they were going. “The fire’s at Alex’s van. Not a real fire, this time, just that the equipment is there and it needs to be-” they flailed an arm in the general direction of the building, “there.”

Louise now regretted coming outside. Or at least regretted blindly following her sibling. Carrying equipment while holding a drink was going to be way more work than she planned on doing.

“Bob why don’t you trade m-” a voice grabbed Louise’s attention, shaking her from her musings. Not that she’d admit just whose voice did that. A little ways in front of them Bob was at a wizard painted van with Alex and Logan, waving the blonde away with one arm and clutching something that looked hefty in the other.

“I got it, Logan, don’t-” pause for straining noise, “don’t worry about it.”

Gene and Louise shared an eye roll and hurried a little faster to the group. Louise shouted out, “Dad come on you’re one wrong breath away from dying at any moment, let the middle aged guy throw out his back instead.”

Close enough now, Louise could see Logan huff and roll his eyes. “I’m not even 30, Four Ears.”

“And?” she quipped back, not having any real backup. Which she cleverly hid with a sip of her drink. Seeming to pick his battles, Logan just shook his head. Louise thought she saw the corner of his lips tug up. But that’s something neither of them would admit.

Turning her attention back to her elderly father, Louise tutted. “For real, Dad, let someone else get that. I’ll trade you,” she said while holding out her half empty flute. The fast action caught the patriarch off guard and he precariously handed the cargo over in exchange. Louise finished the transaction by taking a careful step towards Logan. 

“And now you take this,” she chimed while lifting the luggage by the handle. When the almost-30 year old took it without a second thought Louise prided herself on not cackling right away. The double take he did when he realized what happened caused her to burst, however.

Of course she had expertly weaseled her way into carrying the smallest thing there was. “You were really going to make the father of the bride carry a cd case? You monster,” she teased. 

Logan let out a single bark of a laugh. “You should’ve been out here earlier when I handed him the extension cord.” The twinkle in his eye as Louise reached for imaginary pearls was not to be missed. And Louise thought she caught that too. “This is the last of it though. So classic Louise-timing.”

“Pssh, it’s an art, really,” the young woman boasted. She tried to block out Gene and Alex behind them. But when your sibling only knows stage whisper as a lowest setting that was difficult, especially when that skill is extended to their platonic soulmate.

It was Alex who spoke the question, “Do you think we’re going to perform at their wedding soon?” 

And Gene who answered, “Not for another 7 years.”

“Right, right. In their 30’s,” Alex concluded, referring back to Gene’s ancient prophecy. 

For the millionth time in 3 hours, Louise rolled her eyes. Gene said a lot of things off the cuff, and that was just one of those things. Her sibling was not a prophet, and she was never going to reconnect and marry Logan Barry Bush in her 30’s. For one thing, they had already reconnected now, before Louise’s 20’s. So that was already not going well in Gene’s favor. 

Still, she cast a quick glance at Logan and noticed that his face was just the slightest shade of pink. An impish smile took her face.

“I don’t know Logan, I think we should see if Hall and Oates would get back together for us. If they’re still alive in 7 years that is,” she said a little louder than normal. The blonde had the briefest moment of confusion before that rusty gear in his brain clicked over.

“Awh but I was really looking forward to Beyonce,” he pouted.

“I don’t think we’d be able to afford her baby,” she consoled. Cue the indignant gasps from the peanut gallery in the back, and a confused noise from Bob up front. Choosing to leave the former suffering, Louise called out to the latter, “Nothing, Pops!” Then shared a snicker with Logan.

And that really helped pass the steps back to the main area. Thankfully because Louise was thinking that she needed a refill-osa after that. God maybe I am turning into Mom a little. 

“So has anyone checked on Zeke?” she asked, setting down the cd case and opening the door to the building. Gene went right on past her, presumably to cash in on their own pink fuzzy robe. Without answering, so she assumed that was a “no”. So she looked directly at Logan.

“Yeah I’ve been checking in between tasks. He’s got the rest of the party in there with him for company.”

Satisfied with the answer, Louise gave a nod and went inside. Sure enough, Gene was walking out of the “girl’s room” in a fluffy pink robe and two flutes of whatever concoction they made. Louise knew one was non alcoholic for Alex, so it was probably just orange juice and Spryt. The two passed with a nod. However Gene paused and caught Louise’s attention.

“You’re not really gonna hire someone else to do music for your wedding, are you?”

The youngest Belcher sighed with a smile. “Of course not. If I ever get married you’re the first person I’m hiring. Third person I call. If I don’t dual-call Tina and Millie first I’m pretty sure they’d materialize and murder me.”

Gene laughed and gave a thoughtful, “That does sound like them.” Then they were out the door and waving one of the flutes around, splashing the contents everywhere. Louise chuckled and re-entered the bridal world once more.

Before she knew it, it was wedding time.

[ ch3]

[chateautae]

hi everyone 🥺

[pancakehouse]

writing in past tense is lowkey the one that got away.. i will think ive moved on and then suddenly there she is. finding her way into everything i do.

[waywardsalt]

i have finally escaped the 'game retelling' part of this fucking fic

now onto the actual like. meat of this damn thing